elephant love medley
by Chesra Talasei
Summary: Zexion’s the cynical critic who thinks love is just a big hoax, and Demyx’s the budding musician who’s determined to prove him wrong. Zemyx


**_elephant love medley_**

**summary:** Zexion's the cynical critic who thinks love is just a big hoax, and Demyx's the budding musician who's determined to prove him wrong.

**disclaimer:** Kingdom Hearts belongs to Square-Enix and Disney.

* * *

**track one: spectacular, spectacular!**

* * *

_ No words in the vernacular can describe this great event  
You'll be dumb with wonderment_

* * *

There were two things in the world that Zexion hated the most—love songs and weddings. The former was part of his job, as a music critic-slash-columnist of _XIII_, a well-known magazine that dealt with teenage culture. It was probably the most exasperating job ever; having to deal with snotty pop princesses with their high-and-mighty act and rock musicians spitting curses every two seconds during the interviews. And then there were the aspiring bands—all wide-eyed and eager and a bunch of fake suckers. They had to be insane to think that they would hit it big in the music business.

The latter, however, was his latest pet peeve.

"Doesn't she look lovely?" Sora whispered in awe as Aerith trailed past them in a whiff of roses and perfume in a pink dress. It was a poor substitute for a bridal dress; still, Aerith glowed as if it were her wedding day already. "I'm so excited!"

"That makes one of us," Zexion muttered under his breath. He looked around for someone else less perky to talk to, but everyone else seemed busy. Cloud and Leon were arranging the flowers as Tifa barked orders, Lexaeus was moving the giant piano single-handedly into the reception hall, and Vexen was arguing with the interior decorator about the color scheme.

"Has it ever occurred to you that we cannot have green tablecloths? There will be pink roses—pink! Do you think pink and green match at all?" Vexen looked like he was going to have a fit.

"Oh, I don't know," Zack spoke up, grinning. "Aeri here seems to make it work just fine." The bride-to-be giggled, poking her fiancé with her bouquet.

Vexen huffed, clearly unconvinced. "Zack, do you not understand that your wedding's color scheme is pink and blue, not pink and green, and that green is absolutely out of the question—"

Zexion tuned them out, turning again to Sora, who was now animatedly chatting with his brother.

"It's just wonderful that Aerith and Zack finally decided to tie the knot!" he was saying, grinning happily. "I mean, I was wondering when Zack was gonna get the nerve to finally ask her, they've practically been dating for a decade and all…"

Roxas rolled his eyes. "Personally, I'm surprised Zack even managed to propose. I bet he'll get cold feet before the wedding."

"Oh now, don't doubt your cousin so much!" Tifa chimed in, drifting towards them, shaking her head while smiling. "Aerith's been waiting for this moment for a long time, and I hope it'll go without a hitch."

Then there was yell, and Yuffie was dangling from the chandelier in the reception hall precariously. "Help!" she mouthed desperately, waving one free hand.

"Holy shit, Yuffie, how'd you get up there?" Sora yelled, running to catch her. The rest of the people did the same.

Zexion sighed. He _hated_ weddings.

"Come, don't look so constipated, Zexy," Larxene chirped behind him. The blonde woman grinned maliciously at him, and Zexion fought the urge to roll his eyes. This woman was the Devil's Incarnate. It didn't help that she was his boss. Larxene gave the word 'slave driver' a whole new meaning. "There's going to be a wedding! Can't you smell the romance in the air?" She took a deep breath, and then wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. Those roses are suffocating me."

"You and me both," Zexion agreed. "Anyway, why are you here? This is just the wedding rehearsal—besides, I don't think you're even on the invitation list."

"Oh, don't be silly, Zexy," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. "Me and Aerith, we go way back."

Zexion groaned. "Larxene, please. It's her _wedding_. Don't flirt with her, for God's sake."

Larxene put her hands on her hips, drawing herself up in mock outrage. "Oh, Zexion, how dare you accuse me of coming between the lovely bride and groom? You know me so well—" Zexion snorted and she grinned, not stopping from her dramatic monologue. "—and you know, that lady over there has twice the charm that dear Aeri has."

"You mean twice the breast size," Zexion said bluntly, and Larxene laughed throatily.

"Touché," she said, winking. "God, women look so good in wedding dresses. That's the reason why I always invite myself over, you know. I can't wait to see Aerith in hers—and bridesmaids, too, now that I think about it."

"The gowns are still being fitted up, from what I hear," Zexion said. "You'll have to wait a bit more to get what you want."

Larxene smirked. "Don't worry. I always get what I want."

And he was one of the minions who made sure of that. "Be thankful you're the editor-in-chief of _XIII_," Zexion muttered. "Else you can't get away with all this crap you do."

Larxene flashed him a confident smile. "Well, I'll be over there to congratulate the lovebirds. Looks like they've gotten the little dyke from the chandelier, anyway." She glided over to them, taking Aerith by a sudden hug. The green-eyed woman greeted her enthusiastically, returning the hug with a pleasant "Larxene!"

Rolling his eyes, Zexion strolled out of the reception hall. The wedding was only three weeks away, and everybody was caught up in the wedding frenzy. It made Zexion sick, the way romance sprung around them like a forest fire. He snorted. As if weddings would really last forever. He sat down on the steps, lost in thought.

If there was one thing he learned in the music business, it was things never stayed rosy and happily-ever-after-ish as people expected. He had seen it happen in rewind, fast forward and replay over and over again. The best part was usually the wedding proper and all the free food— with the added bonus of the divorce and the courtroom scene about six months later, give or take. It was morbidly fascinating, but the trend never changed.

Not that he thought Aerith and Zack wouldn't have a happy life together. It was just too much to hope that they would always be in marital bliss forever and ever, amen. Things never worked out like that in real life.

Besides, he had seen Zack's commitment issues up close and personal for the past three years they had known each other, and he was just as skeptical as Roxas was. He doubted Zack could actually go through with it.

"Got tired of all the wedding paraphernalia?"

Zexion sighed. "It's been a month, Lexaeus. Anybody would get sick of it by this time."

Lexaeus shrugged, and settled down next to him. "It's our first wedding. Of course everybody would be excited. Besides, who would have thought it would be Zack to be the first to get married?"

"Hasn't happened yet," Zexion mumbled.

"Eternal pessimist, aren't you?" his friend asked, amused.

"Bitter realist," he shot back, shaking his head. "You know Zack."

Lexaeus laughed. "Yeah. Maybe too well." There was a momentary lull, broken only by the sounds of Yuffie shrieking and Vexen arguing with florist this time.

Zexion stopped to think of how things came to be. He and Lexaeus had been best friends since high school. They had known each other for a long time now, watched each other's backs whenever things got rough, and now they both worked for the same Devil's Incarnate. It was years of memories, good and bad, and if there was anyone who knew how Zexion was feeling, it was Lexaeus. Even if the large man seemed menacing and insensitive from the distance, it was only him that Zexion trusted to an extent. Lexaeus also saw Zexion that way, and they shared a different kind of camaraderie than other friends did. Zexion was grateful that Lexaeus saw through his silence whenever he didn't feel like talking; it made things easier.

"We're still missing a band, though," his friend suddenly spoke up.

"A what?"

"A band. To play all the wedding songs." Lexaeus paused. "Larxene's out there, suggesting every band she's ever handled. But Aerith wanted something…simple. Apparently, she doesn't want this thing to be front page material, so no fancy bands. Unfortunately, that's the one thing Larxene doesn't have."

Zexion groaned. "Please don't tell me Larxene said I'd handle it. Please."

The nod was all Zexion needed to fully convince himself. "God, I hate weddings."

* * *

Monday morning was always the heaviest day to get through in the week. Especially if you were working under Larxene.

Zexion found his boss in the state he feared the most: Coffee-less. And a Larxene without coffee was not only an unhappy Larxene, it was also a dangerous Larxene. The woman had sent him injured to a hospital at least three times due to caffeine withdrawal—Zexion really didn't want to go through all that again.

"I need my caffeine!" she was shrieking, brandishing the empty coffeepot at him. Zexion, not for the first time, wished he came into her office armed with a sort of shield for protection; like Lexaeus, for instance. "How am I supposed to do my work?"

"You don't do your work, you shove it all on me," Zexion muttered, cringing as Larxene threw the papers all over the floor. On the corner of his eye, he could see Larxene's assistant cowering on the floor. Fourth one this month—they went through her assistants like toilet paper in the men's bathroom. "Larxene, calm down."

"Calm down? Calm down!?" She was practically foaming at the mouth. "I want coffee, and I want it now! The stupid coffee dispenser isn't working, and—"

"I'll go get you some," he said, if only to stop the incoming tirade. The nearest coffee shop was at least three blocks away. The things he had to do…with a grimace, he stepped over the mess his boss has created, sent a rather frosty look at the incompetent assistant (who looked very close to passing out, with the way Larxene was screaming her head off) and hurried out of the office building. Luckily, Lexaeus was already in the car, the engine humming as Zexion yanked the door open and threw himself in.

"Caffeine withdrawal?" Lexaeus asked, not even waiting for an answer as he stepped on the pedal. They both knew what Larxene was capable of when she wasn't high on coffee—they only had a little time left to prevent the Armageddon. Zexion sighed wearily and sank into the car seat, massaging his temples.

He wasn't even Larxene's assistant anymore—why was he still doing these stupid jobs for her?

Lexaeus must have seen his expression in the rearview mirror, because he only shook his head. "No one's lasted as long as you did, Zex. You're practically a legend."

"Call me a miracle worker," Zexion said sarcastically. He had started working at _XIII_ a few months after his college graduation; Lexaeus had already been there for a while as the official driver. He got the job of Larxene's assistant—the worst job in the entire building. You ran all her errands, and you had to fulfill all her impossible demands. Every single day—including weekends. Larxene owned his soul for a year and half until finally—finally—he got promoted to the job he really wanted, as part of the editorial department. He wrote the music column of _XIII_, and he did a damn good job at it, because he knew that Larxene was just waiting for him to screw up and send him plummeting back to square one as her personal slave.

Zexion had breathed a sigh of relief when he finally got an office of his own, but it seemed that every now and then, Larxene's new assistant would screw up and Zexion had to deal with the damage control because apparently, no one else could. Everybody in the office looked up to Zexion now; Zexion, on his part, only wished everybody would stop depending on him, because honestly, he was through with Larxene's crap, and it was somebody else's turn to suffer.

Still, he thought sourly, I'm the one running around getting her fucking coffee instead of that new bitch. He mentally noted to himself to look over the new applicants himself (since this one was definitely getting fired the minute he got back); Saix's standards had been dropping lately. Then again, it wasn't as if people were rushing to make slaves of themselves, even if it would warrant a job at _XIII._ Clearly, only Zexion had been willing to go through the arduous process.

Lexaeus parked in front of the café and Zexion got out of the car, gritting his teeth. As he passed the double doors and inhaled the scent of coffee beans, he wondered for the nth time why he didn't just quit his job and find something else with better pay and a better boss.

To tell the truth, a job at _XIII_ was actually a highly prestigious job, one that a lot of people would die for. While the work hours were heavy and the schedule was erratic, it was worth all of it. Besides, he had slaved his ass off for half a year for that Devil Incarnate—he intended to reap great rewards for his patience. So he was going to hang on until he got somewhere, preferably somewhere high up.

The line at the counter was mercifully short, and he finally got Larxene her stupid coffee (double espresso, two sugars, not three, as he had learned). He turned to leave just as someone elbowed him so hard he almost stumbled.

It was a little thing, but suddenly all of Zexion's instincts kicked in. Just like that, he got angry. He didn't need this crap so early in the morning. "What the hell," he snapped, turning to the person. "Can't you fucking watch where you're going?"

It was a guy, probably a few years younger than him. He had this strange, childish aura to him— boyish charm, probably. His blonde hair was styled outrageously, and he had an instrument slung over his back. He looked dauntingly composed as he held a cup of coffee in his hand. "Hello," he greeted cheerfully, as if he hadn't almost made Zexion drop Larxene's stupid cup of coffee. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you."

"You didn't bump into me, you fucking elbowed me," he hissed, the guy's offhand manners irritating him more than his actions. "I want a proper apology, you bastard!"

He blinked. "Just over that?" he asked, tilting his head. "Aren't you being a little overdramatic?"

Zexion glared. He didn't have the time for this—Larxene was probably terrorizing the entire staff of _XIII_ as he stayed here, talking to some idiot who couldn't just apologize. "Do you want to be drenched in coffee?"

The blonde laid his cup on a nearby table and raised his hands in surrender, smiling. "Okay, fine. I'm really very sorry. Would you like me to buy you a cup? A pastry, perhaps?"

Zexion wanted to punch the stranger in the face. He counted from one to ten in his mind, and took a deep breath. "No thanks," he said coolly, and turned to leave. Though his feelings were far from soothed, he got what he wanted, and as far as he was concerned, that was enough.

"Wait!" The boy grabbed him by the arm, and this time Zexion _did_ stumble. Thankfully, the guy had expertly caught the cup in his one hand, with Zexion's arm on the other. "I wanted to talk to you," he said, still smiling pleasantly.

Zexion looked at his expression, and then the instrument he was carrying. He put two and two together, and scowled. "Look, I don't appreciate you people running after me," he said angrily. "Arrange an interview, for God's sake. Don't come and accost me while I'm not in work!" He hated upstart musicians like this.

He looked nonplussed. "What are you talking about? Look, I just wanted to tell you, I saw you here, buying coffee. And I realized something."

"That you should let go of my arm before I call the cops?" Zexion said icily.

The guy laughed and promptly let go. "An epiphany, you could say," he continued. "I realized that we were meant for each other. You and me."

Zexion stared at him. It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, and he had heard a lot of absurd things working in the music industry. "Excuse me?"

"I said, we were meant for each other," he repeated. "You're going to fall madly in love with me. In fact, I'm already madly in love with you—"

"What the hell are you smoking?" He just had to ask. Really, people didn't come round and prophesizing that you would fall in love with them. And this from a complete stranger. If this was the new way musicians chose to talk to his people, they were better off getting agents.

"Oh, I don't do drugs," he said pleasantly. "They're bad for the health."

Zexion laughed humorlessly. "And I suppose you're not really a musician, after all."

"Well," he tapped his instrument. "Sitar players aren't usually part of rock bands, so I guess I am an anomaly. I do drink, though. Does that count?"

"What the hell is a sitar?" He asked incredulously. If he didn't know better, he would say this asshole was pulling his leg.

"An Indian instrument," he said nonchalantly. "Don't worry, I get that reaction all the time. The most people have heard about sitars is that movie about a penniless sitar player trying get the courtesan under an evil maharajah's nose."

Ah. Zexion could remember that movie. The stupid instrument could only tell the truth. He narrowed his eyes. "So what do you want?"

"I told you, we were meant for each other, so that means we should get to know each other better," he replied.

"Right. And I'm supposed to believe all that crap you just pulled from your ass," he said sarcastically. "I'm sure you'll be a hit in the music scene—a sitar player in a rock band who doesn't do drugs. There's definitely a record waiting for you."

"Oh, thanks," he said, smiling. Zexion wanted to punch him and his cheerful tone. "But we haven't gotten our act together yet."

What the hell? Zexion frowned. "Then why the hell are you talking to me?"

He sighed dramatically. "I think I've already told you—" Suddenly, there was a horn honking, and they both looked out of the café. Two people poked their heads out of the window.

"Hey, loverboy, hurry up with coffee!" The redhead yelled, waving frantically. "Marluxia's PMSing is gonna kill us all!"

His companion rolled his eyes. "Demyx, we have to go," he added.

"Right," the blonde said, and turned back to Zexion. "Here," he said, and he grabbed a pen and—to Zexion's utmost horror—wrote on Zexion's hand. "It's my number. Call me!" and with that, he handed the coffee back to him, grabbed his own cup and left the café.

Zexion looked at his hand. The sloppy handwriting was barely legible, except for the giant D scrawled on the top. And there were a series of numbers following it.

He scowled. Obviously some people did not understand the concept of personal space. He wiped it away with a napkin and stomped out of the coffee shop, shaking his head. The things people would do for attention. He got this crap all the time when people realized he was the columnist of _XIII_. But this was definitely a first.

Lexaeus drove up to him and Zexion slid into the car. His friend raised an eyebrow at Zexion's expression, but didn't ask any questions. They got back to the building in less than five minutes and Zexion made his way to Larxene's office. He dumped the cup in front of her unceremoniously.

"What took you so long?" she snapped, snatching the cup and drinking it one gulp, regardless of how hot it was. Zexion opened his mouth to explain, but Larxene was already tossing the cup away. "Make the coffee dispenser work. That stupid girl hasn't gotten anything right."

Zexion wanted to slam his hands on the desk table and scream at her—it wasn't his fault she hired incompetent people. "Has she called the repairmen?"

She sniffed. "She should have," she said dryly. "Anyway, fire her once—if—she gets the job done."

"Will do," Zexion responded, and turned to find the girl and break the news. Hopefully this one wouldn't cling to him and cry, protesting over the unfairness it all, like the last one. He hated the dramatic ones.

"Oh, and Zexy?" Willing himself not to strangle his boss, Zexion turned around again. "Yes?" he said through clenched teeth. He hated that nickname.

"You took ten minutes," she said sweetly, tapping her perfectly manicured fingers against her expensive mahogany desk. "You could have made it in seven. What took you so long?"

"None of your business," he snapped icily, and the minute he said those words he knew he had said the wrong thing, because Larxene made everything her business.

Larxene stood up and leaned in close, smiling like a cat that had just trapped her mouse. "Oh dear, what's that written on your hand?" She asked, and Zexion turned to look at his right hand. Shit. Apparently, he hadn't been able to wipe it all away earlier.

She grabbed his hand. "Demuv? What sort of name is that? And is this a phone number?" She turned to look at him, the gears in her head turning.

He shook his head before she got any ideas, and pulled his hand away. "This is nothing, Larxene—"

"Is that why you took so long, Zexy?" she purred, with such a smug smirk that Zexion really wanted to murder her. "Oh dear, my little Zexy's growing up!"

Zexion glared at her. "I'm telling you, it was nothing. Just some upstart kid over his head."

Larxene shook her head, laughing. "You're such a heartbreaker, Zexion," she teased. "Since when did you start picking boys up?"

He sighed and shook his head. Obviously, Larxene wouldn't even listen to a single word he said. He spun around and turned to leave.

"Zexion's got a boyfriend, Zexion's got a boyfriend," she drawled in an irritating singsongy voice as he walked away. His left eye was twitching with every step he took. With his luck, Larxene would have told the whole world by tomorrow. And he was going to have to spend the following week being the main content of the grapevine.

Life was definitely out to get him.

He had already reached the door when Larxene called him back again. "And Zexy?" she called out. Zexion didn't even turn around. "Don't forget what I asked you to do. I want the band by Friday, okay?"

This time Zexion swiveled to glare incredulously at the woman. How could she expect him to find a band in less than a week? But, as usual, Larxene was already busying herself with other matters after delegating all the hard jobs to other people. Zexion nearly pulled his hair out in frustration. Why him?

* * *

He asked Lexaeus to drive him to Bohemians, the radio station that _XIII _sponsored. He needed help with this band thing, and he knew the one person who could help him.

"This is Hayner, your DJ for the dawn show here on 101.6," the energetic radio DJ was saying as Zexion stepped into the broadcasting room. He caught a glimpse of Zexion, opened his mouth in a perfect 'o' and almost tripped in his haste to stand up. "Zex—"

Zexion shook his head, and Hayner took that as a cue to play a song. After flipping a few switches and pressing a few buttons, Hayner took off the headphones and looked up at the older man. "What's up, Zexion?" he greeted. "Haven't seen you for a while." His eyes lit up. "Are you finally going to guest for the show?"

Zexion shrugged noncommittally. "If you can help me."

Hayner bounced excitedly. "Anything!" He was always eager to help Zexion, especially since he could leak information about Zexion's opinions on certain bands. Mostly everyone in the industry knew Zexion, because he was _XIII_'s columnist, and that deserved a lot respect.

"I need to find a band," he began, getting straight to the point. "By Friday."

"One of Larxene's demands?" The blond grinned. "You poor thing."

"Shut up," he snapped. "Anyway, hold an instant contest or something. Have them send their demo tapes by today, I'll look over them later and then arrange to meet the better ones in a few before Friday. Surely there's a band out there who can play wedding songs."

"Hmm." Hayner tapped his fingers thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll ask for them to cover for a love song." His eyes grew bright as he began to murmur things to himself. He grabbed a notebook and began to write feverishly. Zexion waited patiently for Hayner to say something else, but clearly the DJ had forgotten his existence already. He rolled his eyes.

Right. Zexion would leave it to him. Hayner was capable enough, anyway. "I'll come around at about seven," he said. "Leave the tapes with Olette." Olette was the female DJ who handled the night shift of Bohemians, called the dusk show. Hayner nodded absentmindedly and waved him away, clearly refining the details of the contest he was going to hold.

Zexion sighed in relief and headed back to his office to get some lunch.

* * *

"Larxene is pontificating about you and your boyfriend," was the first words Vexen told him the minute he sat down the table with his tray laden with food. He slammed the food tray a little harder than he intended, some of the soup spilling out of the Styrofoam container.

Apparently, he had underestimated Larxene's means of spreading the news. It was only noon, but the entire office already knew. Besides, Vexen didn't even _listen_ for gossip. If he had got wind of this, the rest of the world must have, too.

"Where does she get these things?" Lexaeus said, shaking his head. Thankfully, his friend was far too sensible to listen to everything their boss said. "Besides, you don't date musicians."

"Exactly," Zexion agreed. Then he frowned. "How did she know he was a musician?"

Both Vexen and Lexaeus turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "He?" they said in unison disbelievingly.

Zexion scowled at their expressions, and then told them about what had happened earlier at the coffee shop. By the end of his story, Vexen was laughing uproariously and even Lexaeus was politely hiding his small smile.

"He just said you were meant for each other? Right there?" Vexen chortled. "And a sitar player! Zexion, you really know how to pick them up."

"He sounds very interesting," Lexaeus agreed. "I wonder how Larxene knew he was a musician."

"She was probably exaggerating the story," Zexion muttered. "By tomorrow it'll be as if I'm sleeping with an Elvis impersonator."

Vexen snorted. "Knowing Larxene, it'll probably be like that. That woman really knows how to ruin someone's life."

"It's her full-time job," Zexion added bitterly.

Vexen shook his head, still smirking. "Well, I have to go already." He stood up, taking his tray with him. Zexion could hear him murmuring under his breath about sitar players. He made a face.

"Cheer up," Lexaeus said. "You probably won't see him again, anyway. And the rumors will die down sooner or later."

"I suppose." Zexion glared at his mashed potatoes as if it was the cause of all his suffering. "Well, I have to go back to work myself. That column isn't going to write itself." He sighed. "It's not fair that I have to find a band too. Can't somebody else do all these dirty jobs she pushes on me?"

Lexaeus patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sure Hayner will get some good bands," he said. "Don't worry too much about it."

Zexion wrinkled his nose. "That's one thing out of the way, at least. Now I have to play as her assistant again," he said bitterly. He had fired the girl earlier, and she had to be led out of the building, crying. Fortunately, Zexion was used to those situations—he had encountered at least seven instances when the assistant threw a dramatic fit over getting fired. As if they didn't deserve it.

"You can handle it just fine. Oh, and when you buy your groceries later, can you get me toothpaste? I'm all out," Lexaeus added. "I'll pay you when I pick you up later. Then we can go to the station to listen to the demo tapes."

Zexion nodded absentmindedly, and headed for his office. Time to tackle the amount of paperwork that Larxene had forced on him. Honestly, that woman could be really annoying when she wanted to be.

As he immersed himself in proofreading articles, Zexion decided that the day was coming around full circle. It had started horribly, and it would end exactly the same way.

At least Lexaeus was right. He probably would not see that stupid sitar player ever again.

* * *

Zexion ambled along the walkways in the shopping center, and paused at the Picture Perfect store. Yuffie was posting a giant 'Help Wanted' sign on the door.

"What happened to that blonde guy?" he asked, trying to remember the obnoxious blonde's name. "You know, whatshisname."

Yuffie rolled her eyes. "Ran away to Zanarkand with his one true love. Said something about making it rich as a blitzball player."

Zexion snorted. "Only in his dreams."

"Well, we all want to chase our dreams," Yuffie mused, smirking. "But now I need someone to help me. I can't manage the counter and take pictures at the same time."

"Hm." Zexion nodded warily, and then walked on. He headed for the supermarket. Stepping over the automatic doors with ease, he grabbed a shopping cart and plowed on.

"No, Axel, don't—!" There was a strangled shriek, and the sound of cans toppling all over themselves.

"Oh fuck! Sorry, I didn't mean to!" The redhead shouted, trying to gather all the cans in his arms. "Nothing to see here, people—the produce is that way, madam," he said politely, pointing to his left, dropping a couple of cans as he did.

Zexion moved closer towards the mess, and saw Kairi in the middle, trying to stack the cans properly. "Kairi," he greeted. "Something the matter?"

"Zexion!" she heaved gratefully. "Oh, thank God—can you please grab those? We don't want anyone slipping over them…" as if on cue, a kid stepped on a rolling can and slipped. Zexion instinctively caught him and curtly told him to stay away from tin cans. Then he grabbed canned goods and placed them in his shopping cart. After all, he needed to buy them.

"Thanks," Kairi huffed, panting. "Axel, why don't you go over to the frozen goods?" she said in a clipped tone, forcefully polite.

"But Kairi, I still have to help clean up," the guy protested.

She shook her head frantically. "No, I'll take care of it! Don't worry! Now go!" and she pushed him forcefully out of the way.

"New guy?" Zexion asked once the redhead was out of earshot.

"New guy," Kairi confirmed. "Just came in earlier. Means well, but as clumsy as can be." She looked in despair at all the cans strewn all over the floor. "I swear, I told Mr. Scrooge to put him in the cashier, but he said he didn't look trustworthy at all. Might pocket the money from the cash register. God. And now I have to deal with this." She sighed.

"Right," Zexion said noncommittally, because he wasn't really in the mood to listen to the girl. "I better go, Kairi," he said, and weaved through the stream of people.

As he was over the aisle of countless shampoos, he saw the redhead bump into the soap aisle, knocking a few soaps. Sighing wearily, he trudged over there and helped him pick up the boxes.

"Thanks," the guy said gratefully as they finished stocking them up again.

Zexion rolled his eyes. He wasn't really up to playing Good Samaritan, but he felt that the redhead was hazardous to the supermarket as he was. He would probably burn the place down if they stationed him in the aisle with matches. He felt that he at least owed the place enough to prevent it from collapsing thanks to this walking disaster.

He smirked, and then leaned closer to Zexion. "He still won't stop talking about you, you know," he whispered conspiratorially.

Zexion stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

He laughed, his teeth showing. "Demyx. Got it memorized?" With a sly grin, he waltzed away from Zexion.

Zexion watched as his retreating back, and suddenly it clicked where he had seen the redhead before.

At the coffee shop. The one who was driving the truck, and had yelled at the stupid sitar player.

Oh God.

Oh no.

Suddenly Zexion had this mad urge to run out of the supermarket and never look back. God forbid that he encounter that blonde musician again! He walked on as if autopilot, instantly grabbing all the necessities he needed, only remembering to grab toothpaste for Lexaeus when he was almost at the counter.

He walked quickly out of the supermarket, only hazarding a quick wave at Kairi and heading outside. Unfortunately, the country he resided in was a tropical one, and apparently a thunderstorm had blown in while he was shopping. He cursed creatively and poked around his bag for his umbrella.

"Hey there."

Zexion froze, and then looked up. The penniless sitar player was right in front of him, grinning madly and soaking wet.

"We meet again," he continued, giving a friendly wave and slinging his arm around him. Zexion's left eye twitched, his inner mind screaming that he was getting wet, and he had to murder this guy right _now_.

"Get your hands off me," he snapped, brandishing the umbrella at him. "Have you ever heard the concept personal space?"

"Whoa, whoa," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "Don't be so mean." He smiled hopefully. "You see, it's raining and I was wondering if you—"

"I am not sharing my umbrella with you," he said irritably, cutting him off. "Now go away."

"Now, now," he said calmly. "Sharing is a vital part in a relationship."

"And we are not involved in one," Zexion said frostily, and moved two steps away from him. "This is my umbrella. Sod off."

"But I might get wet," he rationalized, ignoring the fact that Zexion was staring at him like he was something unpleasant under his shoe. "And then I'd get sick. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"You're already wet," Zexion pointed out. "So there's no point in sharing my umbrella with you."

He smiled and shook his head. "It's really the thought that counts, you know."

Zexion snorted. "Oh please. Don't give me that crap." Before the musician could reply, Lexaeus pulled up in front of him, to his eternal gratitude. His friend rolled down his window.

"Zexion," he greeted, turning to stare at the one beside him. He shot a bemused look at the slate-haired man. "And this is?"

"He is no one," Zexion said curtly, but the blonde had enthusiastically held out his wet hand. "I'm Demyx," he said proudly. "Nice to meet you."

"Uh-huh." Lexaeus nodded, hesitantly shaking his hand before shooting another look at Zexion. Zexion shook his head in turn, wishing that the earth would swallow up the stupid sitar player.

Demyx turned to him. "So, your name's Zexion," he said conversationally. "I feel as if we aren't formally introduced."

"There's no need for that," Zexion said coolly. He opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat. "Let's go."

Lexaeus hesitated. "But—"

"Now," Zexion said warningly.

"Wait!" Demyx said suddenly as Lexaeus started the engine. "Do you think I could hitch a ride?"

"No," Zexion answered immediately. He scowled at Lexaeus, as if daring him to contradict.

"Aww, c'mon, Zexy! It's raining," Demyx said in a cajoling tone. "The place where I'm staying is really close. Please? I won't be a bother, promise."

Zexion glared. "_No_."

Lexaeus turned to look at his friend, and then at the hopeful blonde outside. "Well, it _is_ raining," Lexaeus said after a moment of withstanding Zexion's dark glare. "And it's not letting up any time soon."

Demyx apparently took this as a yes, because he yanked the car door open and scrambled into the backseat, dripping rainwater everywhere. "Thanks!" he said happily. "The guys are already working, but the place where I got a job told me to start tomorrow, and I don't really want to wait in the freezing rain. I'll pay you back, I promise…"

Lexaeus nodded as he started the car and drove off. The blonde filled the growing tension in the car with his inane babbling, oblivious to the thundercloud above Zexion's head.

The slate-haired man closed his eyes in frustration. He could feel a headache coming in.

"Take a right here," he heard the blonde say. "Yeah, the red house over there." The car screeched to a stop, and Zexion opened his eyes to see a horribly painted house in the middle of a middle-class neighborhood. Figures.

Demyx was already getting out. "Thanks so much for the ride," he said, smiling. "I would have probably drowned if you guys hadn't come."

"You're welcome," Lexaeus said cautiously. He turned to look at Zexion, who was still glaring darkly at the windshield wipers.

"All right. I'll see you around, Zexion!" he gave them a cheery wave, and bounded for the house.

Zexion turned to glare at his friend. "Don't say a word," he said threateningly.

Lexaeus just shook his head, and drove towards the direction of the station, where the demo tapes were waiting.

* * *

"So how's the band thing going?" Larxene asked idly as he stepped into Zexion's office. It had been three days since Zexion had seen the stupid musician, and he was thankful that they no longer encountered one another. Also, all the rumors about him sleeping with an Elvis impersonator was starting to die down. Life was starting to look good again. "Tomorrow's Friday, you know."

Zexion was highly tempted to start bashing his head against the wall. A lot of bands had eagerly submitted, but only a few of them could play music that was worthwhile. He had tried to ask Hayner to extend the contest the other day, only to find him in a terrible mood.

"Seifer Almasy is a bastard," he had declared loudly, pounding his fist on the table, clearly uncaring that half of the country had heard his statement.

"What about Seifer—" Zexion was starting to ask when he saw Pence, another one of Bohemians' radio DJs, gesturing frantically at him. Unfortunately, the damage was already done, because Hayner launched on a rant about the lead singer of The White Knights. Zexion vaguely remembered having interviewed the band before.

"And their single isn't that good," Hayner ranted. "_Hyperion_? I've heard better songs and better lyrics." Luckily, they were already off air, thanks to Pence's quick thinking.

Zexion raised an eyebrow. "What brought this on?" he mouthed to Pence as Hayner raved on and on.

Pence shook his head and led him out of the room. "The White Knights were the guests this morning," Pence said quietly. "It, er, didn't go so well."

Zexion frowned. Seifer could be a bit annoying—he was arrogant and overbearing, but Zexion had dealt with worse. And their music was good, for a new band. They were making their way to the top of the charts with their new single. "Seifer can be a bastard, but that doesn't give Hayner the right to badmouth him," he pointed out. "That's very unprofessional."

Pence fidgeted hesitantly. "Well, Hayner and Seifer have this…rivalry," he finished lamely. "We were in college together, with Raijin and Fujin. And, well, they've never met eye to eye. Yesterday Seifer was pushing into Hayner's face that he was more accomplished than he was and that did him in. He's been fuming ever since they left."

"I take this is a bad time to ask him to help with the contest again," Zexion said.

Pence sighed. "Sorry, Zex," he apologized. "Can't help you right now. We'll even have to deal with damage control if The White Knights decide to sue us for defamation of character." He winced. "I swear, Hayner's mouth isn't connected to his brain."

So there went one of Zexion's options. He had met three bands already, and only one of them seemed willing to play at the wedding. The others were considerably disgruntled when they found out they were not going to sign a record deal. As if it wasn't exposure enough to play for Aerith and Zack, the new darling couple of the show business.

He needed a back-up plan.

With this in mind, he grabbed his phone and started dialing.

* * *

He was never bringing Sora to a bar ever again, Zexion decided. Never.

The boy had been eager to help Zexion to find a band. Zexion had been dubious at this point. One, Roxas would kill him if he found out, and he never got along with Sora that well either. Besides, his eagerness was far too suspicious to be normal. Unfortunately, only Sora was willing to run around town with him for a Larxene job; Lexaeus had to drive Larxene to the other side of the country for one of her parties, Vexen had already refused once Zexion said that it was Larxene's orders, and so had most of his other contacts. Zexion didn't blame them—even he didn't want to go around doing Larxene's errands.

He and Sora went to several clubs, checking the music scene. Zexion found them all mildly irritating, but enough to play for a wedding. But Sora kept insisting it wasn't what Aerith and Zack were looking for, and eventually suggested going to Seventh Heaven. His tone was deceptively casual, but Zexion felt apprehensive.

"You're not allowed there," Zexion automatically replied, eyes narrowing.

The boy pouted. "But we need to look for a band! You can overlook this one time, right?" He pleaded, bottom lip sticking out.

Zexion sighed. Roxas was going to kill him.

They went Seventh Heaven, Tifa's bar. "Cloud said they got a new band playing," Sora said innocently. "Aerith and Zack want something fresh, don't they?" he grinned and led them to the counter.

"Hi Sora," Cloud replied. His eyes narrowed. "You're underage, you know."

"I'm with Zexion!" he said defensively. "I'm helping him find a band!"

Zexion shook his head. "He's too eager, I think," he whispered to the bartender. Cloud nodded, still eyeing the brunette. Sora was now excitedly scanning the mass of people in the dance floor.

"I think he's looking for someone," Cloud said anxiously. "Do you think—" The words died prematurely when Sora began waving frantically to someone. Zexion followed his gesture and immediately felt his eyebrow shoot up.

"Sora—" he began warningly, turning to his younger companion.

"He's Riku," Sora chirped brightly. "My friend!"

Zexion stared at him incredulously. "Your friend."

He laughed nervously. "Well, uh, sort-of boyfriend. A psuedo-boyfriend, one might say."

"Right. And does Roxas—"

"He knows nothing about this," Sora whispered anxiously. "And he's not supposed to know."

Zexion glanced at the silver-haired man walking towards them. "He looks like he's older than you," he said cautiously.

"He is. Two years. But he's my classmate in Advanced Calculus—ask Kairi," he added at Zexion's unconvinced look. "It's true! And he's _nice_." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Please, please, please Zexion, don't tell Roxas! He'll kill me you do! And then he'll kill Riku," he added after an afterthought.

Zexion grimaced. "He won't just kill him, and you know that."

Sora groaned. "Yes, I know." He bit his lip. "He'll castrate him, rip his arms out and render him incapable of speech for the rest of his life."

"If he's lucky," Zexion told him grimly. "Sora—do you realize that Roxas will murder me if he found out you were using me as an excuse?"

"But he won't find out," he said confidently. "You won't tell, right?" He smiled hopefully.

Zexion was spared answering when Riku stepped in front of them. "Hey, Sora," he greeted suavely, and Sora grinned like a little kid before tackling him with an excited 'Riku!'

The slate-haired man put two and two together, and he shook his head in disbelief. "The kid's been using me to get here," he muttered to Cloud, and explained what had just happened.

Cloud rolled his eyes as he poured Zexion a glass of red wine. "Really, I underestimate the amount of evil in Sora sometimes." He turned to look at Riku. "I don't like him. He looks like one of those guys who just mess around."

Zexion sighed. "Well, that's Sora's problem. My problem is finding a stupid band." His expression turned sour. "The minute they finish playing the first song, I'll pull Sora away from his psuedo-boyfriend. Hopefully not enough damage has been made by then."

Cloud agreed. "Good plan. I'll go look for Leon and ask him if the band's here yet." He shot Sora and Riku another dubious glance before stepping out of the counter.

Meanwhile, Riku leaned closer to Sora. "You heard that?" he snorted. "Do I really look like a bad guy?"

Sora giggled. "It's the long hair. It's a sign that you're evil, if you're male and you have long hair."

"That is so unfair," Riku complained. "Everyone's so prejudiced against me. It's not my fault my hair looks so good."

Sora pulled him closer. "I like your hair," he said dreamily, fingering one of the locks.

"You better." Riku smiled at him and pulled him close for a kiss. They broke apart just in time to overhear Zexion's plan.

Sora sighed. "I hate the fact that they all think I'm a little kid," Sora grumbled. "Especially my brother. He won't let me near anyone."

"It's because you look so cute," Riku teased. "Everybody would want you." His eyes roved over Sora's body. "In fact, I wouldn't want to let you out of my sight, either."

"Cliché much?" Despite it, the brunette grinned. "So what are we going to do? I don't want to leave yet—I don't want to leave you just yet."

"Don't worry." Riku grinned mischievously. "I have a plan."

* * *

What was taking Cloud so long? Zexion frowned as he took a sip of the wine. He looked at the empty glass and sighed. He wanted another drink.

"Hey, Zex, I think the band's almost here," Sora said, suddenly appearing next to him.

"Good," he said crisply. "We're going to leave right after the first song."

Sora pouted. "But Zexion—"

"No buts," he interrupted. "You do realize that you brought me here on false premises. You didn't even want to help me find a band," he accused angrily, and Sora at least had the shame to look sheepish. "You better hope this band is good enough for Aerith and Zack, because I am tired and unhappy and irritated. Do you understand?"

Sora nodded guiltily. "Okay. I'll go tell Riku, then." He sighed, and plopped two cans of soda. "Want a drink? You've run out of wine."

Zexion glared. "That's because Cloud's somewhere trying to get the band." But he grabbed the drink and took a swig. "This tastes funny," he murmured.

"Really?" Sora said innocently. "Maybe you're just not used to it." He took a sip of his own. "It tastes just fine."

"Uh-huh." Zexion took a swig, and blinked. The lights were a crazy neon color, and they were starting to hurt his eyes. "The floor's spinning," he slurred. "Weird." He emptied his can, and tried to stand up. He slipped.

"Zexion!" Sora cried, and grabbed onto him to keep him from falling. He righted the man onto the stool. "You okay?"

Zexion repeatedly blinked. "Your eyes are blue," he stated.

"Uh, yeah, they normally are," Sora said nervously. He looked around. "Riku, a little help?" he said tentatively. Riku moved in closer to them, and helped him put Zexion in a position where he wouldn't fall off the chair.

"Hmm." Riku blinked. "Well, that didn't take long. I didn't expect him to get drunk that easily."

Sora looked around nervously. "You think it's safe to leave him like this?" he asked worriedly, eyeing Zexion who was now struggling to sit up properly.

Riku waved it off carelessly. "Don't worry. We'll just spend one more hour and you can go bring him home. He'll be too hungover by tomorrow to remember this."

Sora nodded. Well, if Riku thought so, he supposed it was okay. He looked up and realized the band was starting to play. "C'mon, Riku!" he said, grabbing his boyfriend's hand. "Let's dance!"

He would just worry about Zexion later. After all, what could go wrong?

* * *

His head was starting to hurt. "I need a drink," Zexion announced to no one in particular, and swiveled around to grab Sora's unfinished can. He drank thoughtfully, straining to hear the music. The band was probably starting to play.

He stumbled out of his chair, and wondered where his sense of coordination went. Perhaps it eloped with his sense of humor to Tahiti. Staggering, he stood himself up, tossing the can away. He had to get closer to listen.

He was only halfway into the dance floor, though, when someone grabbed his arm. "Hey, beautiful," the man slurred. "You look really sexy…"

"Is that supposed to be a come-on?" Zexion asked testily, trying to pull his arm away, but the guy was pretty strong. Or maybe he was just drunk. He winced at the smell of beer. "Go away."

"Aww, c'mon, pretty lady," he whispered in what he thought was a provocative tone. Zexion thought it was repulsive. "Why don't you and I…" he breathed into his ear. "Get a drink?"

Zexion felt something graze his behind, and he instantly pushed the man towards a nearby table. He had the satisfaction of hearing the sound of bones breaking. "Serves you right, you bastard," he said calmly, and stumbled away.

God—what was wrong with him? He could barely see straight, and now there were drunken men running around thinking he was female. He snorted. He was never going to a bar again.

He tried to get closer to the stage, but people everywhere were dancing, jostling him out of the way. Several times he came close to colliding with the wall. It was not fun at all, but he couldn't exactly do anything. He was practically doing his all just to stay standing up.

Shit. Zexion cursed as he slumped against a wall, finally giving up. Screw the band. He would just get someone from somewhere. He wanted to leave, now.

Where the fuck was Sora?

* * *

The band finished the last strains of music, and they were greeted with thunderous applause. Sora was among them, cheering loudly. It had been a great night.

He was still flushed after the whole evening. It was so wonderful, to be with Riku. He sighed happily. He wished it were always like this. He snuggled close to him.

"We better go find your friend," Riku said, smiling fondly at Sora before looking at his watch. The band was already packing up. "It's getting late."

Sora nodded, and they headed back to the counter. Then his eyes widened. "Zexion?" The slate-haired man wasn't there.

Uh-oh. Sora looked around frantically. "He's missing, Riku!" he whispered, his panic rising. They had lost Zexion!

"Calm down," Riku said comfortingly at Sora's panic-stricken face. "Let's split up and look for him. Maybe we could ask for help?"

Sora turned to look at Cloud, who was wiping the glasses, and shook his head. "He thinks Zexion and I left after the first song," he said. "He'll have a coronary when he sees me."

"All right. Let's go. I'll take the left side, you take the right. Okay? We'll meet up in front of the stage." Riku patted his shoulder. "We'll find him, don't worry. It's not like anyone else is going to pick him up, right?"

Sora nodded, though he was still worried. "Right."

* * *

Zexion had no idea where he was. He was dimly aware of the fact that he was in Seventh Heaven, but right now he couldn't even recognize the place.

He couldn't have possibly left the bar, could he?

He struggled to stand up. He could no longer hear music. The band must have left. Zexion cursed, and wondered where Sora was. Probably ran away with his stupid boyfriend. He was going to kill him.

Muttering quietly, Zexion grabbed onto a nearby chair and slumped onto it. He was a wreck. Did Sora put something in his drink? Because right now he felt really drunk, and he hadn't even touched anything at all.

"Hey, there." Zexion looked up and groaned.

"Get away from me," he snapped angrily. This was the fifth time someone had tried to pick him up, all of them as drunk as the first one, and he was getting annoyed.

"Don't play hard to get, missy," the man slurred, and Zexion belatedly realized that he had companions. One of them pulled him up. "Come with us, and we'll show you a good time."

Zexion punched him. He wasn't the type to resort to physical violence, but really, it was getting annoying.

"You bitch!" the man roared, and he grabbed Zexion and slammed his against the wall.

"Let me go!" he yelled, struggling.

"Nobody goes around punching me!" he bellowed, and his face was so red and angry that Zexion thought he was going to spontaneously combust. "Apologize, you stupid fuck!"

"You were the one running around trying to sexually harass me," he replied coolly.

"Smartass, aren't you?" he snarled. "We'll see how smart you'll be when I—"

"Darling, you're here!" and suddenly, someone entered the scene. Zexion became uncomfortably aware that a crowd had gathered around them. "I've been looking for you!" he cooed, and he gently pulled Zexion away from the drunk people. Zexion looked up and made out blonde hair and blue eyes. There was also something slung over his back.

"Your stupid bitch punched me," the man growled.

"I'm really very sorry," he said courteously, bowing. Zexion blinked—where had he heard that apology before? "See here, Zexy gets very wild when he's drunk—"

"He?" the man suddenly interrupted, his face paling.

"Why didn't you know? This is my boyfriend!" he chirped. "He's very pretty, I know, but he's taken." He winked, and the man blanched.

"I don't do guys," he muttered, and the crowd began whispering. "I don't dig men!" he roared louder, and backed away with his gang. The crowd began to disperse soon after that.

"You okay?" the stranger asked.

Zexion shook his head. "I feel like shit." He covered his mouth suddenly. "I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Not here!" the guy panicked, and dragged him to the nearest bathroom stall. The moment Zexion found the toilet, he began to vomit everything he had eaten for the past twelve hours. He felt horrible.

"Here you go." Zexion looked up to see a glass of water in front of him. "Drink." Zexion obeyed, and then threw up again. He gagged. The burning taste in his tongue was starting to make him sick.

"Didn't expect to see you here all drunk," the stranger said, clucking his tongue. Zexion blinked. He was talking as if they knew each other. "Ah well. You'll have the hangover of the century tomorrow."

Before Zexion could protest loudly that he wasn't drunk, he passed out.

* * *

Zexion woke up with an earsplitting headache. He moaned, and burrowed deeper into his bed.

Then he froze. This wasn't his bed.

He opened his eyes and nearly screamed.

Fuck! Where the hell was he?

The events of last night came in stilted memories. Clubbing with Sora, going to Seventh Heaven, drinking the offered drink—

His eyes narrowed. "That fucking son of a bitch spiked my drink," he hissed, eye twitching dangerously. He was going to kill that stupid psuedo-boyfriend!

The worst thing was, Zexion had very low alcohol tolerance, and he could barely remember what happened next.

He could, however, faintly remember throwing up. And then there was someone pushing a glass of water towards him…

Blonde. Blue eyes. With a sitar strapped to his back…

Zexion paled. Oh. God. No.

He stood up, swaying dangerously. He almost stumbled, and he held onto the bedpost for support. He could still taste the vomit in his tongue. His stomach churned at the thought.

The stupid sitar player had saved him last night. Even helped him puke his guts out in the bathroom. Zexion covered his face, his headache growing by the second. He was never going to live this down.

He looked out the window, and to his growing dread, realized that he was at that horribly painted red house.

So it was true. Zexion staggered back into the bed, collapsing awkwardly. He had been hoping it had been another blonde sitar player who had picked him up last night, but the chance of that was practically zero. After all, how many sitar players ran around in their city? He didn't even want to answer that particular question.

_I have to get out of here, _he thought frantically. _I have to get out of here and murder Sora and his psuedo-boyfriend._ At that thought, his anger began to resurface. It was all Sora's fault—him being here, him owing something akin to gratitude to that sitar player that he never wanted to meet again. He wanted to scream. He wanted to commit bloody murder.

He tried standing up. The hangover was definitely taking effect. Zexion winced. He was never drinking, ever again. And he was never going to accept drinks without knowing what was in it. He clumsily made his way to the window, bumping into several things as he did.

Eventually he reached the window. This was the only exit, other than the door, and he wasn't going to risk walking out there and seeing him and his bandmates. It was a choice between a rock and a hard place, and he already made a decision.

He took a deep breath, and then he jumped out of the window.

Once he was out of there, he broke into a run.

He was going to _kill_ Sora. The thought resounded in his mind like a mantra, keeping Zexion's headache in check as he ran haphazardly. Finally, he reached the nearby children's park and settled onto a bench. Gritting his teeth, Zexion grabbed his cellphone and dialed the brunette's number.

"Hello?"

"What the fuck did you do to me last night?" Zexion said calmly into the mouthpiece. His voice was composed, but you could feel the evil radiating from it. He could almost see the boy cowering in fear.

"Zexion! You're all right! Thank God! Riku and I just turned around for a moment and…well, ehehe…" there was nervous laughter. "Anyway, all's well that ends well, huh?"

"You are going to wish you were never _born_, Sora," Zexion promised dangerously. "Now what did you do?"

"W—well…"

Zexion whipped out his trump card. "Talk or I'll tell Roxas about your boyfriend." He grinned maliciously at the thought. Roxas would rip the guy to shreds.

"Zexion! No!" Sora said, panicked. "Don't tell Roxas about Riku! Please?"

Zexion folded his arms, even though Sora couldn't see him. "The two of you spiked my drink, didn't you?" His tone was menacing.

Sora inwardly cringed. "Maybe a little…" he admitted.

"A little!?"

The brunette winced. "I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" He apologized. "I mean, you looked like you needed to loosen up a bit! I didn't know you had really low alcohol tolerance—"

"Goodbye, Sora," Zexion said in a clipped tone. "If you don't see your boyfriend tomorrow, rest assured that Roxas got to him before I did." And he ended the call, still seething.

Sora had no idea what he had just done to Zexion. And Zexion was going to make sure he was going to suffer for it.

* * *

The next time Zexion saw Sora again was during the wedding rehearsal over the weekend. The boy was considerably sulky—a feat, for everybody knew that Sora was really a ray of sunshine trapped in the body of a human. "I hate you," Sora muttered darkly. "I can't see Riku at all because Roxas is following me all the time."

"Well, you should have thought about the consequences before getting me drunk," Zexion said icily, and turned his back on him.

Sora frowned. All right, it was his fault, but that didn't Zexion had to be such a jerk. After all, he was safe. Nothing happened to him…Sora paled. Oh no. Maybe something _had_ happened to Zexion. He bit his lip. Now he felt guilty.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but Roxas suddenly cut in between them. "Hey, Zexion," he greeted casually.

"Hello, Roxas," Zexion greeted listlessly.

"Kairi says there _is_ a Riku in their Advanced Calculus class," Roxas continued in the same tone. "Matches your exact description, too."

Sora swore underneath his breath. On the other hand, Zexion deserved everything that had probably happened to him. He didn't need any apologies.

"Wonderful," Zexion said sarcastically. "You'll have to check his background, too."

"Don't worry, my people are on it," Roxas reassured him. "Thanks for your help." He shot a dirty look at his brother. "Anyway, Larxene is calling you."

Zexion groaned, and left the brothers to themselves. He could feel a nasty row coming up. He looked for his boss, and found her chatting animatedly with the bride and groom.

"I couldn't find a band," he said right away as Larxene turned to him. There was no point in beating around the bush. Larxene smiled frostily, clearly disappointed with him. Hopefully he wasn't going to get fired over this.

"Well, I'm glad I didn't only depend on you, Zexion," she said acidly. "I talked to Tifa a week ago and she said she had a good band playing at her bar for a while now, and they're going to come over so we can see just how good they are."

Zexion's mouth fell open in shock. The bitch! She had a band planned all along and she made Zexion go on a wild goose chase for one?

"Isn't this great?" Zack said, patting him heartily, completely misunderstanding Zexion's shock. "Tifa always knows which bands are good. Maybe you'll even make this one a hit!" He smiled warmly.

Aerith nodded, obviously delighted. "I'm glad everything's working out for our wedding," she said, smiling. "I can't wait."

Larxene simpered, turning back to them. "I'm sure your wedding will be a hit," she assured them. "I hope you don't mind us covering it…it would probably be the biggest wedding this year!"

"Now, Larxene, don't overdo it," Aerith said, laughing. "We're hardly anyone."

"Don't be silly, Aerith—you're the best fashion designer this side of the country! And Zack is one of the Top Ten Most Wanted Bachelors for three years running," Larxene added. "Everybody wants a piece of this basketball champion. You'll have a picture-perfect wedding."

Zack shook his head. "We don't really want it to be the front page news," he joked. "That's why we got most of our friends to help with the wedding. No big names and all. We want it simple." He turned to smile at Aerith, who smiled back.

"Ah, the modest couple!" Larxene gushed, evidently sucking up to them. Zexion shook his head and looked away. At least his troubles were over. He didn't need to look for a band anymore.

He just hoped he wouldn't get fired. It had been so long since he last failed Larxene. He was just going to have to look over this band and then his job would be over.

"The band's here," Tifa suddenly announced from the far end. Four people were ushered into the reception room, lugging their equipment.

A man with his black hair tied back in a ponytail walked up to them casually and held out his hand. His bandmates lagged behind him. "I'm Luxord," he said. "Congratulations on your upcoming wedding, Mr. Fair."

Zack grinned embarrassedly as he shook the man's hand. "Thanks. This is your band?"

Luxord nodded. "Yup. We're the Diamond Dogs. This is Marluxia, that one's Axel, and here's our lead singer, Demyx."

At the last name he uttered, Zexion turned to look, and he instantly grew pale at the sight of the blonde carrying a sitar.

Oh no.

Why? Why his band of all the bands? He stared in horror.

Demyx turned and saw him, but instead of running over and talking about epiphanies, he just gave him a half-smile and walked over to the stage.

Zexion couldn't move. If Larxene ever found out he were the same guy from Monday, the rumors would be back by tomorrow.

Calm down, he told himself. No one else knew who he was—except for Lexaeus. He shot a look at his friend, who was also staring at the blonde and his bandmates. They caught each other's eye, and Lexaeus gave him a small shrug.

Zexion gave a sigh of relief. At least Lexaeus wouldn't give him away.

Unexpectedly, the memories of The Incident resurfaced. All of the sudden Zexion couldn't quite meet Demyx in the eye anymore.

It was embarrassing, to be put in this position. He hadn't even said a word of gratitude to him, and he owed the blonde at least that much.

"So, The Diamond Dogs, huh?" the people had swarmed around the band as they set up their instruments.

"They play well," Tifa said, nodding warmly at them. "You've been drawing in a lot of customers."

Demyx smiled charmingly as he steadied the microphone stand. "We're glad we can help, ma'am. We're really grateful that you let us play there."

"They were pretty good," Sora commented, smiling shyly.

Yuffie rolled her eyes. "How would you know, Sora, it's not like you can get into Seventh Heaven. You're underage." There was a pause, and then Roxas rounded on Sora, who looked the epitome of guilt.

"You went to a bar with that guy!" Roxas accused, eyes narrowed. "I can't believe you, Sora!"

Sora blushed and folded his arms. "So I did, so what?" he retorted defensively. "It's not like I did something you haven't done—"

"I didn't go to bars when I was underage!"

"Oh yeah, just because you're a year older than me you're better!"

The brothers started shouting at each other, edging away from the stage as they did so. It wouldn't take long before it would evolve into a fistfight.

Axel smirked. "How adorable." There was this strange glint in his eye, not uncommon to homicidal maniacs and/or idiots in love.

"Oh, shut up, Axel," Luxord said wearily. "So, Mr. Fair, do you have any particular songs you want us to play?"

"You can call me Zack, you know," Zack said, slinging an arm around him. "Let's all be friends here!" he said with heart-wrenching cheer, one that only Zack could manage while his two cousins battled it out.

As Luxord, Zack and Aerith began to discuss the music line-up, Kairi sidled up to Axel. "You didn't tell me you were part of a band," she said, eyebrows raised.

"Well, you know. It's always the redheads on the drums," he said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know how you can play an instrument when you drop things all the time."

"Hey!" Axel said in righteous indignation. "Are you implying that I am clumsy?"

"That's exactly what she's saying," drawled the fourth member of their band. He looked older than Axel and Demyx, and he had outrageous pink hair.

"Oh shut up, Marluxia," Axel snarled. "At least I'm not born with pink hair."

Marluxia glared at him. "One more hair comment, Axel, and you're going to lose all of yours," he threatened.

Axel smirked. "Including the ones down under?"

Marluxia flushed and threw a drumstick at him. Axel expertly caught it, and winked. Marluxia gave him the middle finger.

As all this was happening, Zexion had quietly slipped away from the room. He didn't feel comfortable around them. His conscience was prickling constantly in the blonde's presence, and he didn't want to deal with this.

He slumped against the wall, lost in thought. Walls were his friends nowadays, it seemed.

He should have at least shown a bit of gratitude to the boy. He did, after all, save him from being mauled and helped him in his drunken state. The problem was, he wasn't sure how to express his thanks.

"You could have at least said goodbye, you know." He turned around abruptly to come face-to-face to Demyx. The blonde shrugged, and settled beside him. "I mean, it would have been nice if you told me you were leaving."

Zexion looked away, trying to think of words to say. Unfortunately, none came to him. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I didn't mean to bother you."

Demyx smiled at him. "I didn't mind. We're made for each other, after all." He said it with so much certainty that Zexion didn't know whether to laugh or to hit his head against the wall repeatedly.

"I'm starting to think you set up all of that just so you could rescue me," he said disdainfully. Demyx started laughing.

"I wish," he said, grinning. "Unfortunately, that's more of Axel's specialty. You can't imagine the lengths he'll go for someone to notice him."

"So I suppose you just settle for spontaneous love confessions," Zexion retorted dryly.

"Touché."

"Hmm." Zexion lapsed into thought. "It's not really working, you know."

Demyx smirked. "Oh, ye of little faith. I'm just getting started. You'll fall in love with me yet."

Zexion shook his head. He couldn't believe someone could be this confident and self-possessed and yet not as obnoxious as he would have expected. "We should go back. People will be wondering were we went."

"They're probably too busy to notice that we disappeared," Demyx said. "Everyone scattered a few minutes ago, so I went to find you."

"How thoughtful of you," he said sarcastically.

"Thanks," he responded brightly. "So, are you doing anything tomorrow?"

Zexion made a face. "Yeah. Stuff that doesn't include you." He shook his head, and then walked back to the reception hall.

He had a pretty funny feeling that Demyx wouldn't give up too easily.

* * *

He was right.

It was Monday morning again, and Zexion was trying his best to forget last week by drowning himself in paperwork.

It wasn't working. Besides, he couldn't possibly forget Demyx now—he was going to play on the wedding, after all. Everybody had instantly loved the Diamond Dogs, and even Zexion had to admit that their sound was pretty good—when it came to song covers. He had yet to see if they had some good songs of their own.

He was a little wary of bringing the band into the music industry, though. That would mean spending more time with the sitar player, and he didn't really want that. The last thing Demyx needed was encouragement.

The phone rang, and he answered it. "Someone is looking for you, sir."

"Who?"

"Someone named Demyx—"

Shit. "Tell him I'm not here," Zexion said curtly, but it was too late. The door burst open, and Demyx was there, panting.

"You're Zexion," he gasped, looking awestruck.

"Yes, I am," he said coolly, wishing he had locked his door. "Even though we aren't formally introduced."

"No, I mean…" he made big, frantic gestures, clearly at loss for words. "You're _the_ Zexion! Of _XIII_! The one—" he stopped. "Oh."

Zexion raised an eyebrow. "Oh, indeed."

He slammed his hands down Zexion's desk suddenly. "You thought I was just trying to get your attention because you were the columnist of _XIII_," he said slowly, as if it just dawned on him. "That's why…"

"Wasn't that the real motive after all?" Zexion fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Are you expecting me to believe that you really thought we were meant for each other?"

Demyx turned to look at him, his expression serious. "You're telling me you don't believe that we are?"

Zexion had to laugh. "How can we be made for each other? This is just one of your grand schemes. I've seen them all—the things bands will do to get attention."

"Well, this isn't one," he said, clenching his fists. "I was serious, Zexion. And I still am. This isn't about you being a critic, or me being a musician."

He was one hell of an actor. "You're not going to get anything from me," Zexion said bluntly. "And you know that."

"I don't want anything from you," Demyx said, eyes softening. "I thought you knew that."

He looked away. "You're a musician, and I'm a critic."

"I didn't know who you were until today!" Demyx exclaimed. "And anyway, even if I did, that doesn't change how I feel."

"You are insane," Zexion said in a no-nonsense tone. "You don't even know me."

He was silent. "I don't," he agreed quietly. "But I want to know you."

Zexion sighed. He was evidently fighting a losing battle. "I have a 'no musicians' rule," he said as a last-ditch attempt.

Demyx laughed, bright and clear. He obviously thought he had won. "Rules are made to be broken," he said cheerfully. And then leaned close to him and captured his lips.

Something in Zexion's mind told him to push this boy away—this stupid, reckless, naïve boy, who believed too much and thought too little—but something stopped him. He didn't know what. Perhaps he was a little frightened, a little doubtful, a little uncertain, for once in his life. He didn't like it; this person didn't even _know_ him, and he didn't have the right to topple the balance in Zexion's world.

He should have done something, but he didn't. Just stayed there, kissing the blonde, as the sunlight streamed through the windows like a silent mockery.

He closed his eyes.

He now hated three things—love songs, weddings, and penniless sitar players.

* * *

a/n: I posted the draft of this on my lj, and now it has grown into monstrous proportions. (facepalm) Ah well. If you notice any mistakes in grammar or spelling, please inform me.


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